


No Matter Where We're Going (It Starts From Where We Are)

by katebishoop



Series: tumblr prompts [13]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - High School Musical Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, POV Multiple, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school is coming to a close. Bellamy is unsure about the future, wondering if the plan that's been laid out for him is what he really wants. Clarke doesn’t know if she’s ready for th real world, just that she’s tired of saying goodbye. Miller’s caught between worrying about losing his best friend and worrying about his new crush.  Monty’s got a whole musical to write and a certain basketball player is very distracting. Raven doesn’t know if she can handle another serious relationship when her last one crashed and burned. Wells just wants to get through the morning announcements without getting catcalled.</p><p>The Ark High class of 2016 has a lot to deal with during their final semester - the future, college, finals, friendship, relationships, and gradution - all while having to act in a musical about their senior year against the backdrop of a nuclear apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Matter Where We're Going (It Starts From Where We Are)

**Author's Note:**

> **anonymous asked:** Can you do a High School Musical 3 Bellamy and Clarke one shot or 2 or 3 chapter story?
> 
> This incorporates a lot of the original dialogue because I'm that level of HSM Trash. 
> 
> Alternates between Bellamy, Clarke, and Miller's POVs.

Bellamy pressed his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. His whole body is slick with sweat, his hair clinging to his skin. His whole body is pulsing with electricity, just itching to get back out on the court.

“There’s sixteen minutes left on the clock,” Marcus’ voice came from behind him, “for you seniors, there’s sixteen minutes left in for you in that uniform. Make it count.”

Bellamy turned around, leaning on the lockers.

Marcus locked eyes with him; Bellamy was well familiar with the look, he’d been seeing it for years now. Marcus gave him a nod, passing the team off to him before leaving the room.

“The way we play tonight is what most of us leave behind.” Bellamy begins, the faces of his team looking back up at him:  the excitement of the lower classmen, the sheer determination of the seniors. He’s shared this team for the past for years

They were down by four, but they wouldn’t lose again; they won last year, they will win this year. “Show them what we’re all about, show them what it means to wear this uniform.” His voice echoed against the lockers, booming, louder than the crowd that’s just outside the door. Their emblem, a scratchy pattern of stars over his heart feels as good as ever. “History will know who we are. It’s now or never.”

He nods to Miller - his best friend, his co-captain - who stands up, that wild grin on his face.

It’s his favorite part.

“WHAT TEAM?” Miller yells.

And as always, the team yells back: _“ASTROS!”_

“WHAT TEAM?”

_“ASTROS!”_

“WHAT TEAM?”

_“ASTROS!”_

* * *

The crowd goes wild as Bellamy shoots another basket. The score keeps climbing and climbing - one second their winning, then it’s the Polis Academy Warriors. Seventy to seventy-two; seventy-two to seventy-two; seventy-four to seventy-two.

Of all the games they’ve played, of all the games they’ve won and lost, this has been the more intense. It’s fitting, that they go out with a bang.

Murphy passes him the ball, just dodging one of the others-

A body slams into Bellamy’s side, sending the ball flying from his hands and his body skidding across and his head thumping against the floor.

Bellamy blinks - Miller and Marcus are hovering over him, there mouths are moving but it’s like they’re talking to him from behind glass.

“Bellamy- Bellamy are you alright?” Miller asks, or at least he thinks that’s what he’s asking.

There’s a ringing in his ears that’s making it hard to concentrate. All the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

Miller pulls him up, and Bellamy wobbles a bit. He was going to fucking kill whoever was number thirteen. Miller’s still talking to him, but a blonde head above the crowd catches his eye.

Clarke must be standing on her seat to be seen -  he may be fucked in the head, but he can read her anywhere. That’s all he needs; the sound comes rushing back.

“What do you want to do, captain?” Marcus asks.

Bellamy glances up at the clock - there’s less than a minute left - and then at the bench.

“Put in Goggles.”

“Goggl- _Jordan?_ ” Marcus runs a hand over his beard, “Are you-”

“Still in my right mind? Yeah.”

Marcus sighs, “Jorden get over-”

“Yeah coach?” Jasper’s a junior - but it’s his first year on the team, he’s just as over eager as any of the freshman.

Bellamy rips the goggles off his head. “Get your head in the game. And keep your eyes on me, alright? Everyone else - get me the ball.”

Back on the court he finally gets a good look at number thirteen - big and burly, a beard that made him look way too old to be in high school. But the bigger they were, the harder they fall.

The buzzer sounds - and thirteen’s mission seems to be to keep Bellamy as far away from the net as possible. But that’s what he figured. Monroe manages pass the ball to him - but their all too well guarded to get close.

Except Jasper - too green for any of the other team to pay attention too.

He jumps - throwing the ball, it zooming up and over the mob of outstretched hands and right into Jasper’s.

Into Jasper, who is standing right next to the net, just staring down at the ball, dumbfounded.

There’s seconds left on the clock and Bellamy shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife: “ _SHOOT!_ ”

Jasper startles but he shoots the ball, just before the other team reaches him and -

The ball goes in.

The buzzer sounds.

Final score: eighty to seventy-eight.

They’ve won.

The cheer rips from his chest - his mouth threatening to split in two. There’s hands clamping him on the back - he doesn’t even know who, he thinks he can see Miller’s beanie covered head - and the neck thing he knows he’s being lifted onto someone’s shoulders, the trophy being thrust in his hands.

He catches glimpses of people - Murphy making out with his girlfriend, Monroe with hers, Marcus’ proud face - but most importantly he catches Clarke’s. She’s making her way down the bleachers with Raven and Wells, beaming at him.

Bellamy knew what it felt like to win - but this, this was different.

* * *

 “Tell me again: why won’t you let Raven fix this hunk of shit?”

They may of won the best game of their lives, but of course, he and Miller still need to push his truck home.

“Because,” Bellamy grunts out. They are so close, and that shine from the trophy in the cab is making it all worth it. “ _I’m_ going to fix it.”

“You’ve been saying that for eight months.”

“If you keep hating on my truck, I’m not going to give you rides anymore.”

“Give me _rides_?” Miller stops pushing the truck. “I can’t remember the last time you actually drove me anywhere.”

“Ah, shut up and help me, will you?”

“I’m going to help Raven steal this shit I swear.” Miller mumbles under his breath.”

“Good luck,” Bellamy says with a final grunt as they make it to his house. The party’s already in full swing, taking up the entire lawn. “I doubt it would start for you.”

Miller looks like he’s about to punch the grin off Bellamy’s face when someone flings themselves onto his back.

“Congrats, losers.” Octavia’s smirking at them both. She wraps her legs around Miller’s middle for more support. “I’m so proud.”

“Hey, why does he get a hug before your own brother?” Bellamy says, feigned offense.

“Dude - this does not count as a hug.” Miller grumbles, but he sounds annoyed but looks fond. Octavia has that affect.

“Later, Marcus is looking for you,” she says, and then her tone turns teasing, “and so is your _giiiiirlfrieeeeend._ ”

Bellamy laughs. Miller stumbles off - Octavia still clinging to his back. She may be in eighth grade - she may be a high school freshmen next year - but she still claims that she’s not too old or too big for piggyback rides. Miller disagrees of course, but never in front of her. He’s just as much her brother as Bellamy was.

He doesn’t even know the names of half the people at the party, but every single one of them congratulates him. He gives Monty a wave, whose DJing; Jasper spots him then, and is only slightly more creepy with his idolization than usual.

“Bell-Bellamy!” Marcus was waving him over. When he got through the crowd towards him, he saw that Marcus was standing with an older gentlemen who looked out of place in his suit. “Bellamy this is Dante Wallace, coach of the team at University of Richmond.”

“That was good work tonight.” Bellamy’s pretty proud at himself for not recoiling at the clammy, wrinkles hands when they shake. “Carrying the team to victory - like father, like son, eh?”

Bellamy pauses - taking a glance at Marcus. They may not look alike, but they get that more often than not. Usually one of them steps up to correct the error, but. Bellamy just feels pride at the assumption right now. Marcus took him and his sister after their mother died, when Bellamy was ten and Octavia was five, and formally adopted them three years later. He’s the closest thing to a father that Bellamy has ever known; he’s the closest thing a _parent_ as he has ever known.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. He doesn’t fail to notice the smile playing at Marcus’ lips. “Something like that.”

“Well, the tradition will continue in the fall, won’t it? We’re looking forward to you donning a Spider's’ jersey.”

“Uh-yeah.” Bellamy catches a glimpse of a blonde head over Mr. Wallace’s shoulder. Even when she doesn’t mean to, Clarke’s always saving his ass. “Would you two excuse me?”

She doesn’t notice him approach - she’s busy laughing with Wells and Raven. He snakes his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her around.

“You asshole.” Clarke laughs. Her nose getting all scrunched up in that cute that way that drives him crazy - and he can’t help but lean down to plant a kiss to it.

“You’re both assholes.” Raven snorts. “Get a room already.”

“You know that’s not a bad idea,” Clarke says, her voice dropping to a low that sends a shiver down his spine.

Bellamy tips his forehead against hers. “I think I know a place.”

“Yeah that’s it-” Raven shakes her head and grabs onto Wells arm. “We’re out of here.”

“Don’t act like you’re not doing the same thing!” Bellamy yells after her, and Raven flips him off over her shoulder.

“You could lay off the teasing a bit.” Clarke scolds, fond.

“Did they for us? No, no they did not. I’ve earned this, Clarke.” Bellamy says. “Now - come on.”

* * *

“The skylight's a nice touch.”

They’re laying on the floor of his old treehouse, Clarke’s head is pillowed on his chest. The party is still going strong below them, but up there with them it’s quiet - their own little world, a quiet moment in all the chaos. The stars shining above them through the leaves of the old oak tree.

“What if I told you that's there because we never finished it?” Clarke laughs and leans into him, her hair tickling his jaw. “Octavia was so excited - we couldn’t keep it from her anymore. It was taking much longer than it probably should have, anyway. This was the first thing that Marcus and I ever did together…”

Clarke hums against his chest. “Even before basketball?”

“Yeah.” It still feels unreal, sometimes - that he and his sister have been living with Marcus for only eight years. It feels much longer than that. “Building this together… it’s what finally had got me to give him a chance.”

There’s a slight breeze in the air, and Clarke huddles to him for warmth. Her bare legs rubbing up against his.

“I just…” Bellamy twirls a lock of her hair between his fingers. “I never knew my father. I never thought… I’m following in his footsteps, just like a son would - he’s got the coach from University of Richmond down there and everything.”

“I get it,” Clarke says. Her father had died when she was thirteen, and her and her mother had been moving around the country ever since. Here was the longest place she’s been in since then. Having that sense of normalcy, of that feeling of _it’s supposed to be this way_ … “My father went to Harvard - so did my mother, it’s where they met. They’ve been talking about me going there since before I was born.”

“You’re already in though, right? And it’s what you wanted?”

“It is, I can’t wait to - I already know I’m staying in the same dorm my father did. I want to feel close to him again.” Clarke’s voice is wistful. She fiddles with the old ratty watch on her wrist, that once belonged to him. “But Harvard is five hundred-”

“-and forty eight miles from here.” Bellamy finishes for her.

Meeting Clarke Griffin over winter break a year ago had been chance; her transferring to his high school had been fate. This next chapter, being miles and miles apart, he didn’t know what that was. But he knew that graduation wouldn’t be the end of them. It couldn’t be.

“I know.” Clarke groans.

“Hey, were in the same time zone at least.” Bellamy says, holding onto her tighter. “And I could drive up in a day, if you know, my truck doesn’t break down before then.”

He’s expecting her to laugh - she’s always teasing him about his car - but she’s quiet. He crans his neck so he can see her face. She’s got the scrunched up brow, she’s biting her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

Clarke closes her eyes. “I can’t believe basketball season is already over. It just feels like this year is going by so fast. And I - I don’t want it to.”

Bellamy sighs. It’s the same way. They have about three and a half months until they graduate, then about two months of summer before everyone goes their separate ways. He wasn’t ready for that either.

“Hey, hey - look at me.” Clarke props her chin on his chest, her bright blue eyes boring into his. “We’ll figure it out later, okay? Right now there’s just you and me.”

Clarke gives him a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

She leans forward to press a firm kiss to his lips. His hand weaves itself into her hair, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Even after being together for over a year, he still gets butterflies in his stomach whenever she kisses him.

Clarke pulls back, and when Bellamy opens his eyes he sees that she’s looking at something behind him, a grin on her face.

“What is _that_?” She’s scrambling off him to get a better look at whatever it is she’s amazed about. Bellamy sits up, his mouth in a slight pout at the loss of contact.

“Did you _make_ this?” Clarke turns around, and he sees what she’s holding - and he groans. “You were such a nerd, even back then.”

“It’s called a _galea._ ” Bellamy protests. It’s his old roman helmet - pieced together from an old bicycle helmet, some cardboard, and the brush of a push broom. “And it’s _cool_ , okay.”

Clarke’s grin was bright and unwavering, her laugh light and breezy and lifting all the weight on his shoulders. She leans forward to put the helmet on his head - it more of sits on his head, it being way too small. His hair sticking out wildly from it.

“Hmmm,” Clarke stands up, looking down at him, considering. “I don’t know about that.”

Bellamy stands up and follows Clarke - who's moved out to the wrap around balcony of the treehouse-

“Oh my god.”

Bellamy flinches. He knows exactly what she’s found.

“Is this-?” She looks from the wooden horse head that’s mounted on the outside of the railing, to the treehouse. “You made your treehouse into the _Trojan Horse_. I can’t believe I’m dating such a dork.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bellamy snakes his arms around Clarke’s waist, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Clarke tilts her to the side so that she can kiss him.

This kiss is deeper than the previous one - with a heat behind it that’s got a moan forming in his throat. Clarke turns around in his arms, and he backs her up against the railing. One of Clarke’s hands tangles in his hair, knocking the helmet to the ground; the other pressing against his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Bellamy’s hands slide down from her hips, his fingertips brushing the hem of her dress, sending a shiver through Clarke when he touches her thigh.

 _“HEY_!”

Bellamy and Clarke jump apart at the shout. They’re towards the back of the treehouse, away from the party and-

“Stop being gross and get down here!” Octavia’s standing on the ground below them, arms crossed and looking very stern for a thirteen year old. “Marcus is looking for you again!”

“We’ll be down in a minute!” Bellamy calls back, his voice gruff. It’s a little hard to keep his voice even, what with Clarke’s smirk and her hand, teasing around his belt buckle.

“Use protection!”

“ _Shut up_ , O!”

Clarke laughs, and Bellamy knocks his forehead against hers. This is not the first time that she’s interrupted a… moment. Clarke’s fingers are cool under his shirt, ghosting over the skin right about his waistline.

“Five more minutes?” Clarke asks, and her voice goes straight down his body.

He hates having to say this: “She’ll seriously come up here.”

Clarke shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She pulls him a little forward by his belt loop, and whispers in his ear: “Later, then.”

Bellamy groans. Clarke steals one final kiss before heading to the latter, taking him by the hand and pulling him along with her.

* * *

“Basketball seasons over, you’ve realized that right?” Bellamy teases Miller as they enter the school Monday morning. Miller is still carrying around his basketball.

“It’s habit. It’s like a secur- oh fuck off, Blake.” Miller flusters, moving the ball under his other arm, the one farther away from Bellamy.

Homeroom was always a ruckus - Mr. Pike their eccentric, extremist english teacher and drama director, sitting on his throne in the front of the class; paper airplanes flying; general shouting. Jasper tries to hug him when he enters, but he brushes him off, shooting a quick wave to Monty before making his way to the back of the classroom where Clarke was sitting with Raven and Wells.

“Good morning,” he says, leaning down to give Clarke a kiss.

“You disgust me.” Raven says as they pull apart.

“Ah, so you’ve discussed me.”

Raven crinkles her brow. “Did you _just-_ ”

“Good morning class!” Pike shouts before the bell even finishes going off. He always has a way of talking, like he’s rallying troops for battle. “We will begin today with announcements from your student body president - Mr. Jaha.”

Raven’s wolf whistle follows Wells to the front of the room. Wells pulls at his collar before speaking:

“First things first, congratulations to the-”

Bellamy and Miller and Jasper and the rest of the team present start cheering, cutting him off. Wells just sighs - he’s expressed many times before that Pike making him read the announcements is the least favorite part of his job. That doesn’t mean they make it any easier for him.

“Yearbook committee still needs a few people - we meet Thursday’s during the free period.” Wells pushes on through, “And this year’s prom theme is…”

Wells points to Miller, who bangs on his desk like a drum roll.

“-Masquerade.”

When it’s met with a collective groan, Wells sighs again. He sighs a lot, standing up there. “Hey - you guys voted for it.”

“What’s the lunch special?” Raven heckles from the back of the room.

Wells doesn’t miss a beat. “Mystery Meat Monday.”

“Yes, thank you Mr. Jaha.” Pike says from his throne - his fucking throne, it’s ridiculous - ushering Wells away.

Wells goes back down the aisle to his seat in the back of the room, and Raven slaps his ass as he passes, causing him to give a small yelp. Bellamy puts his fist out to her, and she bumps it. Clarke rolls her eyes at both of them.

“Now,” Pike says, “the president of drama club - Ms. Woods.”

Lexa gets up from her seat in the front. She’s got that smug smile on her face, her cold eyes scanning the crowd. They narrow into a glare on him, then go slightly softer when they move past him, to Clarke behind him. That past summer, she had tried to break Bellamy and Clarke up - _again_. Bellamy really wasn’t looking forward to a round three.

“Due to lack of sign ups for this year's musical.” Lexa begins, her voice dripping with disdain. “I’ suggesting a one woman show.”

Bellamy’s eyes snap to Monty, who let out a weird noise, and was now scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. Bellamy felt sorry for him, he did. A one woman show? Monty was a miracle worker with writing songs - but Lexa’s taste wasn’t exactly his style. Plus, one on one time with her? Bellamy wants to die just thinking about it.

“Mr. Pike!” Monty jumps out of his seat, thrusting his sheet of paper at the teacher. “The sign up sheets actually full.”

“Oh,” Pike’s eyes widen in surprise, and then a big smile spreads across the man’s face. “It looks like most of homeroom as signed up!”

_What._

The class breaks out into a frenzy, questions and objections - but then the bell rings, and Pike’s voice cuts through the chaos.

“I will see you all in the auditorium at free period, then.” Pike says, “No-shows will receive detention.”

* * *

“Monty - I can’t do this.”

“I’m working on my truck.”

“I’m actually working on his truck.”

“I got yearbook, and the decathlon, and prom committee.”

“I’ve got-”

“Jeez, sorry!” Monty’s voice is sharper than Bellamy’s ever heard it; so loud and hard that it shuts everyone up. “I just thought - it’s your guys last show, you know? I figured you’d all want to do it.” Bellamy feels guilty at how Monty sounds - dejected and sad. He and Jasper are juniors - but the rest of them, their friends, are all seniors and are going to leave them behind.

But that still doesn’t mean he wants to do this.

“Monty we’re sorry, but - you’re wrong.” Bellamy says.

“We just don’t have the time.” Wells insists.

“I don’t know guys - I think Monty’s right.” Bellamy’s head snaps towards Clarke - and right then, he knows he’s screwed. “This is our last chance to do something - to make something great together. I don’t think we should pass that up.”

Bellamy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Clarke’s looking at him - and so is Monty, and everyone else, expectant. How’d he get in this position, he had no idea.

“ _Fine_.” He relents. He can’t say no to Clarke - but even then, Monty’s puppy dog eyes are pretty convincing.

“Oh, wonderful.” Lexa deadpans from the edge of the crowd, arms crossed. “We’re going to be putting on a circus again.”

Bellamy’s fist clenches, but Clarke’s hand comes down over it. She’s calming - his rock, his anchor.

“Oh, I don’t know, Lexa,” Clarke says, a bright smile on her face. “I think we’ll put on just as good of show as last year.”

Bellamy can’t stop himself from snickering a little - at Clarke’s taunt, how the musical last year, the first time Lexa wasn’t the lead, was the best show in the school’s history, and at Lexa’ face, going bright red.

Miller steps up next to Monty. “Okay, well - what’s this show _about_ anyway?”

“It’s about you Mr. Miller,” Pike says, coming down the auditorium.

“Me?”

“Yes - it’s about all of you,” Pike comes up the stairs, slowly, over dramatically. “It’s about all of you, surviving, the end of the world as you know it.”

Bellamy closes his eyes. He didn’t think there could have been anything worse than the Tinsel Twinkle Town they did last year - but clearly, he was.

“It’s about your senior year here at Ark High, against the backdrop of the apocalypse. A two prong end of the world, if you will.” Pike goes on, “see - playing a character is easy - but playing yourself, and putting yourself into drastic situations… now that’s a challenge.”

“Mr. Pike-” Lexa starts, but he quickly raises a hand to cut her off.

“Mr. Green will compose, Ms. Wilde will choreograph - where is Ms. Wilde?”

“Sorry I’m late!” Everyone’s heads snap around the side door. It’s Harper, exactly who Pike’s looking for. “Just had to get a few more dancers!” She opens the door wider - and in comes the rest of the cheerleaders, excitedly, and Monroe, begrudgingly.

“Now I have one more announcement to make!” Pike calls, his voice silencing the noise that erupted with the addition of the new people. “Scouts from Juilliard will be attending the show - to check out the students who are up for their scholarship.”

Pike pulls out a stack of envelopes from behind his back, and makes his way along the edge of the group. “For Ms. Woods.” Is it possible for Lexa’s face to get any _smugger_? “For Ms. Wilde.” Harper squeals, and throws her arms around Monroe. Pike then stops in front of him. “And lastly- for you, Mr. Blake.”

“What.” Pike presses the envelope into his hands. Bellamy shakes his head. His friends are hovering over him now, just as confused as he is.  “But I didn’t apply. I haven’t even heard about the scholarship-”

“Well, they’ve heard of you, Mr. Blake.” Pike’s expression does nothing to ease Bellamy. “Now - brainstorming! Everyone, get in a line. Mr. Miller, you’re up first.”

“Uh, for what?”

“Your goal - your mission. What is your plan for your future.”

“University of Richmond, basketball.” Miller nudges Bellamy, and Bellamy shoots him a grin but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s not - he can’t really focus on whatever nonsense Pike’s doing.

“Ms. Reyes…”

Bellamy fiddles with the navy blue envelope. His name is printed, large and big on it. His fingers run along the lines. It feels strange, and he’s still confused, because there was no way he applied.

“Mr. Blake!”

“Huh?” Bellamy looks up to find everyone staring at him.

“What is your plan for your future?” Pike asks.

Bellamy’s mind goes blank. Up until that moment, he’d been set. Attend University of Richmond, major in basketball. Stay close so he could still be with Octavia, play on the same team as his best friend. But this opportunity - this opportunity to do something else, something else that he loves…?

“I-uh, you know-” Bellamy stutters, looking to Miller but only finding worry there. “I’m, huh-”

“My plan is for all of us to put on the perfect prom.” Clarke steps forward, saving him again.

“That’s a little low bar, don’t you think?” Lexa says from farther down the line. “Surely you can do better.”

It’s always this weird competition - this weird challenge between them. Clarke’s always up for it.  

“What do you want then?” Clarke says, crossing her arms.

Lexa rolls her eyes, like the answer is obvious. “I want it all.”

The bell rings - and Bellamy’s never been more grateful. He doesn’t want to listen to Pike or Lexa - he can’t deal with that right now, not with also having to deal with this big bomb that’s been dropped on him.

“You alright?” Clarke asks, slipping her hand into his, her head tilting to the side in concern.

“Ye-yeah. I’m good.” Bellamy says, but words catch in his throat. He slips the envelope into his back pocket, well aware of her eyes following it. “Let’s go get some, food yeah? I’m starving.”

* * *

“Nice hickey,” she says in lieu of  a greeting to Wells as she slides into the backseat of Raven’s old Volkswagen bug.

“You should see the one I gave Raven,” he says and Raven gives him a high five.

“You are improving,” Raven says as she pulls back onto the road. “I’m going to teach you how to make them look like states next.”

They get into a discussion about hickeys then, which weirdly turns into a conversation about dadaism. It’s a pretty standard morning.

It’s not until they pull up in front of the school that Raven brings _it_ up.

“Are you coming to rehearsal today?” Clarke asks, wiggling out of the backseat.

Wells snorts. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

“Yeah, you got us into this mess,” Raven says, slamming the door on the word mess. “And you might not even be here for it.”

Clarke groans. “We don’t know that.”

“But you should be hearing from the freshman honors program any day now, right?” Wells asks. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No, only you two know- don’t give me that look.” Clarke pouts at their twin expressions of disappointment. “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“You should tell Bellamy.” Raven says, “At least _mention_ the possibility.”

“I don’t want - I know exactly what he’ll say, okay,” Clarke shakes her head. He’d tell her to go - and she doesn’t know if she wants that.

Her phone buzzes in her hands. It’s a snapchat from Bellamy.

“Speak of the devil,” Raven mutters. She can’t see the Clarke’s phone - but Clarke’s got on her signature it’s _Bellamy smile_ on.

She opens the snapchat - it’s just a far off shot of her standing with Raven and Wells. She knows exactly where he is.

“I’ll catch you guys later!” She darts off into the crowd.

“Tell him!” Raven yells after her.

* * *

“Which one should I wear?” Bellamy holds up two suit jackets - one black and one grey.

“This is what you called me up here for?” Clarke asks, laughing as she comes up the last step.

They’re on the roof - Bellamy’s own little private place he had only shared with her. The only other people to come up there are the gardening club - which honestly, she would think is a myth if it weren’t for all the plants up there. She has yet to meet a single member of this supposed club.

“No, I called you up here to do this.” He leans in and kisses her.

Clarke chases his mouth as he pulls back all too soon - and they gets a laugh out of him.

“Seriously - which one?” He holds the jacket up again.

Clarke feigns deep thought, stroking her chin and humming dramatically. “The black one.” Bellamy puts it on, and even with the Star Wars t-shirt and ratty jeans and espeically those big glasses he’s wear- damn, okay, Bellamy always looks good. He’s only in a piece of a suit and she already wishes they weren’t at school right now.

“Why do you need a suit?” Clarke asks, no shame as she checks him out.

“Well, you’re going to look gorgeous in your dress, so I should try and look presentable at the very least.”

Clarke shakes her head. Her boyfriend is a dork. She loves him for it. “Is this you asking me to prom?”

“ _Maybe._ ”

“Well, since this the first prom ask I’ve ever got - congratulations. It’s also the best.”

“I’m always the best,” Bellamy doesn’t miss a beat - but she sees a deflate in his shoulders. “I’ve never been to a prom - or any dance actually. We have to slow dance, right? Because I have no idea how to do that?”

Clarke rubs her hands down his arms, calming. “All I know is what my Dad taught me when I was little.” She remembers it perfectly - her and her father in their garage. He’d put on his old records, and she’d stand on their toes as they swayed. He’d spin her around and she’d scream so loudly her mother had to come in and tell them to be careful. “I’ll show you.”

“What?”

She pulls him by the hands to a more open space on the roof. He looks nervous; it’s cute, but he’s cuter when he’s relaxed, so she’s going to help him get there.

“Trust me.” Clarke leads one of his hands to the small of her back, the other clutching her hand. She rests her other one on his shoulder. “Follow my lead.”

Bellamy snorts. “I don’t take orders from you.” But he does what she says anyway - it’s an old, endearing habit of his. Their little inside joke.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Clarke says, leading him in another step, “Just keep your eyes on me.”

“That’s the easiest part of this whole thing.” His voice is low and husky, and she feels a flush creep up her chest.

To his credit, he only steps on her toes three times, which is much better than Wells did when she taught him. The lessons devolves more into directionless swaying - like all slow dances eventually do - her arms around his neck, his around her waist.

Being with Bellamy is one of the best thing to have happened to her. He’s warm like fire and sharp like a lightning strike. He’s become a new - one of the only - constants in her life. She doesn’t want to have to let that go.

“Hey,” Bellamy says softly, one of his hands moving up to stroke the back of her head. “Is everything alright? You’ve got that crinkle in your brows - I know that look.”

Finding Bellamy was a one in a million chance; keeping him would be even harder. But he’s someone worth fighting for.

“Just-” Clarke sighs, “just standard future stuff, it’s nothing.”

Bellamy leans forward and kisses the crease in her brow, she immediately relaxes, the worry visibly disappearing under his lips. “When you’re ready, to tell me, I’ll be here.” Bellamy says, “I’ll always be here, okay?”

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but the bell cuts her off. “Fuck- we’re going to be late!”

She runs, pulling him and his roaring laughter behind her.

* * *

“One two three four - one two three four- work those legs, Ontari!”

Harper’s usually a sweetheart - but when it comes to choreography, she’s tougher than a drill sergeant.

They’re going over one of the larger numbers. Something that’s supposed to be the graduation scene, but also an epic battle scene? Every other scene has an epic battle scene. She’s completely lost on the plot of this whole musical, but it’s fun.

Raven’s sitting over on the piano with Monty, her brace off, rubbing her injured leg. She’d been the first female basketball player on their team, until an accident that previous summer had shattered her leg. It was still difficult for her, but as Raven gladly explained now, it got her out of the dances.

Clarke and Wells are sweating up a storm - they’ve run this number seven times already - and she wishes she was over there with Raven.

She also wishes that her boyfriend had shown up. It would be a bit worrying honestly, but Miller is also missing. So that can only mean one thing.

She’s immediately proved right.

“Give them back!”

Everyone’s heads snap to the back of the auditorium - Bellamy and Miller are running towards them, Jasper chasing them in nothing but his towel.

“Yearbook!” Raven hollers, tossing the camera - and giving Clarke a slight heart attack - to Wells.

They’re weaving through the group of dancers - Harper shouting and girl shrieking when Jasper accidently gets too close. The flash goes off and Bellamy ducks behind Clarke, using her as a human shield.

“THAT’S ENOUGH.” Everyone freezes and looks up at Pike, who's just entered from his office backstage. “There’s a war going on here, people. Get back to rehearsal.”

Bellamy tosses the clothes back to Jasper over her head, and then wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her hair.

“Or,” Bellamy whispers so only she can here, “why don’t we get out of here?”

After the rehearsal they just had, she can’t argue with that.

* * *

Bellamy’s truck manages not to break down until they are in front of Clarke’s house, which is convenient.

“I swear if my truck falls apart because I’ve been spending all my time on stage, it’s your fault.” Bellamy rests his head on the steering wheel. She reaches over and runs her fingers through her hair, he eagerly pushes up against her hand. He’s a cat like that, sometimes.

“ _My_ fault?”

“You think I'd be spending any time at all up there if it wasn't for you?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, with enough conviction in her voice that Bellamy tilts his head to the side to look at her. “I really do.”

Bellamy sits up, his hand wrapping around the one she had in his hair and holding it in his lap. “What?”

“You love it up there.” Clarke undoes her seatbelt and slides across the bench to lean into his side. “You’re so - you’re so alive on stage. Why is it so hard for you to admit that?”

Bellamy sighs and leans his head down on her shoulder. “It isn’t, to you. But to Marcus…”

“Wait - I thought he was cool with all this?” She remembers, how against it Bellamy’s guardian had been when they were planning to audition for the musical last year. But she thought they got over all that.

“He is but not like - theater is just something I _do_ to him, it’s not who I am,” Bellamy says, so disheartening that it breaks her heart a little. “That’s basketball. It’s going to U of R and playing basketball. It's staying close for Octavia...”

Bellamy traces the lines of her fingers, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“I haven’t told anyone about this, but…” Bellamy breathes out. She can see just how hard this is for him, but how relieving it is as well, to talk about whatever has been eating him up. “I’ve had offers from other colleges - not just Juilliard - which is still weird - and… and I’m really listening to them."

“You have the right to change your mind,” Clarke says, “and don't worry about Octavia - she's strong. She'll be fine and support you, no matter what.”

Bellamy practically raised Octavia, even before their mother died, and after through foster care. Thanks to Marcus, he got to be more than just the promise he made to his mother - _my sister, my responsibility_ \- but she knows he still feels that deep in his bones. It's ingrained in him, it's who he was, and she knows how hard that will be for him to relinquish that, if only for a little while.

“I just, I don't know what to do.”

“I get it, Bell,” Clarke says, interlocking their fingers. “I have some decisions to make, too.”

Bellamy cranes his head back to look at her, confused. “Like what?”

This is it, she could tell him. But she still doesn't want that knowledge hanging over their heads if she’s not sure. But he's got his brows stitched together in confusion, and his mouth slightly parted - and fuck, she wants to tell him she should just tell him-

Someone taps on the window behind her and Clarke jumps - surprised.

It's her mother. She feels Bellamy tense slightly beside her - they're… working on it. She reaches over to crank the handle and roll the window down.

“Am I interrupting something?” Her mother sounds more amused than scolding.

She's home early, which throws a dent in their plans.

“Bellamy was just leaving, actually.”

Clarke’s glad to see a bit of disappointment on her mother's face. Bellamy’s growing on her on no matter how much her mother hesitates.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?”

“Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Griffin,” Bellamy says, “But I have to help Octavia with her science project.”

“Some other time then,” She gives them a small smile, and then to Clarke, “We're having lasagna tonight.”

As soon as her mother has entered the house, Clarke lets out a big sigh.

“She makes the worst lasagna.”

Bellamy lets out a hearty laugh, “worse than yours?”

“Shut up,” Clarke pouts, before leaning up to kiss him. Every kiss between them shouldn’t feel like goodbye to her.

God, she should just tell him.

“I love you,” she says instead, more forcefully than was necessary.

Bellamy’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't comment on it. “I love you, too.”

* * *

“Hey, O!” Bellamy calls out as he slams the door shut. “Marcus home yet?”

“No!” He hears his sister call from the living room. Bellamy tosses the keys in the little clay bowl Octavia made when she was seven and heads over to her voice.

“Do you still need help on your science-?” Bellamy freezes when he enters the room.

His sister is sitting on the floor, her papers and project materials scattered all over the coffee table and floor. There’s someone else there - a boy with a short mohawk, wearing a Polis Academy uniform - and she’s sitting on way too close to him.

“Nope,” Octavia says popping the ‘p.’ “Lincoln’s helping me out.”

The boy - Lincoln - gives him a small smile. It still doesn’t ease him.

“Can I speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?” Bellamy asks, trying to keep his voice even.

“Fine,” Octavia groans, standing up. And then to Lincoln: “I’ll be right back.”

His sister schelps after him - she should have expected this, really. Bellamy’s foot taps rapidly against the tile.

Octavia sighs. “Look before you-”

“You know you’re not allowed to have people over without me or Marcus.” Bellamy cuts her off.

“You mean I’m not allowed to have _boys_ over.” Octavia rolls her eyes. “You had no problem when Caris was over.”

Bellamy sighs and rubs his hand between his eyes. “He’s much older-”

“He’s a _freshman -_ so he’s like, a year older at most,” Octavia throws her hands up in exasperation. That actually surprises him - the kid’s huge. He could probably take him in a fight. “And he’s my tutor. He volunteers with the after school program.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Bellamy relents. He’ll bring it up to Marcus - but he knows what the man will say. “Is he staying for dinner?”

“He’d love too - but he also volunteers at the animal shelter.” Octavia says smugly, before skipping out of the room.

He nearly had an aneurysm when Octavia had a date to her fall formal. What’s he going to do when she’s in high school? When she’s allowed to date? And he’s not around -

 _If_ he’s not around.

Bellamy sighs. Talking to Clarke about it earlier was so nice, but Bellamy still had no idea what to do.

* * *

Miller wasn’t nervous about their championship game. He knew his team was the best, and when he’s on the court, he’s in his element.

Right now he was nervous - this was completely new territory. And he needed to do something soon, because just standing in the doorway of the music room watching Monty play the piano was kind of creepy.

 _You can do this_. Miller took a deep breath and knocked on the side of the door.

Monty jumps and faces him - his surprise quickly fading into a small smile. “Nate, hey.”

A warm feeling creeps up whenever Monty calls him _Nate_. He’s never called him Miller - only _Nate_. He’s the only one to ever do that, even his ex-Bryan had started out calling him Miller first.

“Hey - uh, ‘morning,” Miller takes a step forward, and Monty immediately slides over on the bench to make room. “I brought you some tea?”

Monty raises an eyebrow. “Oh -  thank you.” Monty takes the cup from him as Miller sits down next to him, their fingers brushing. “What kind is it?”

“Green.” Miller says, and Monty bursts out laughing.

“You talked to Jasper, didn’t you?”

Miller feels a blush creep up on his cheeks. Asking Jasper what Monty would like was absolutely traumatizing.

“He never misses an opportunity to make a pun.”

“Fuck - I’m sorry. I can get something else-”

“Hey - Nate,” Monty places his hand on Miller’s knee, and he instantly relaxes. “Green tea is like - my number two, okay. I still love it. Thank you.”

Monty hasn’t removed his hand yet. Why was it so warm in there all of a sudden?

Miller licks his lips. “What’s your number one then?” He’s very proud of himself, for getting that sentence out at all.

Monty takes a sip and places it on the top of the piano. He pulls his hand back and sets it gently on the keys. “I’ll show you sometime.”

Monty makes his heart flutter, no matter what he does. He hasn’t dated anyone else since Bryan; they had been together for four years - since middle school, for crying out loud - and even with them breaking up and Bryan moving away and Miller being totally over it, he didn’t know how to start something. He and Bryan had just fallen into place - friends turned into something more. But with Monty - gosh, he didn’t know what to do. He’s never needed to be smooth or whatever the fuck you were supposed to be.

He and Monty had worked closely together at the summer, at the country club where they all worked. Monty played piano for the guests, and Miller had been a waiter. He’d make goofy faces at Monty when he went by, for only him to see, to try to get him to laugh. They’d bonded over the complaining about their jobs, and over the talent show, and just…

Miller developed a crush. It was inevitable really - once he got to know Monty, how could he not?

Monty starts playing something on on the piano, a sweet little melody. Miller’s mesmerized by his hands for a while, before he finally asks: “That’s really good - what’s that for?”

Monty sighs, his hands stilling on the keys. “It’s for the prom number - which is supposed to be like slow and magical and romantic, you know? But Pike also wants a fast fight scene? It’s - it’s ridiculous.”

Miller snorts. “I’m sure that if anyone can fix Pike’s plans, it’s you.” Monty blushes and fuck - Miller, you can do this. “Speaking of prom - what are you doing?”

Monty huffs, flipping through the sheetnotes. “It’s the day before the show. I’m working on orchestrations and recording sound effects. I still have to write lyrics-”

“So, I’ll pick you up at eight?” Miller blurts out. He just can’t help it - Monty’s so cute when he’s flustered.

And he’s even cuter when his eyes widen in surprise, his mouth stretching into a big smile.

“Yeah.” Monty says, and Miller desperately wants to kiss him, “Yeah, I'd love that."

* * *

Clarke finds him at lunch, and before he can even get a word out she’ grabbing his arm and hauling him off to the side.

“I need you to talk to Raven.” Clarke’s out of breath, like she’d been running to find him.

“Why- what’s-?”

“Wells asked her to prom,” Clarke closes her eyes, like she’s reliving a bad memory. “Publically. He wrote on her car with shoe polish and- fucking Christ, _Wells_.”

“She said no, didn’t she?”

“Yes!” Clarke throws her arms up in the air. “She wants to go with him but she’s too fickle - like going to prom with him is more commitment than fucking for months.”

Images of Raven and Wells having sex was not what he needed. Nope.

“Look - I’ll try,” Bellamy places his hands on her shoulders, “But Raven’s probably less likely to talk to me, you know that right?”

“You and Wells aren’t as close as Wells and I, I’m kinda banking on that.”

Bellamy presses a kiss to her forehead. “If she stabs me, that’s on you.”

“You’ll live.”

* * *

Raven doesn’t even look up when he enters the auto shop classroom. “Clarke sent you, didn’t she?”

“Yep,” Bellamy goes over and sits on one of the stools. He and Raven are bad at expressing their feelings or just talking about feelings - and it’s even worse when it comes to each other.

“So?”

“You’re not stupid,” Bellamy shrugs. “You know what you’re doing.”

Raven glares at him. “Is this some kind of reverse psychology bullshit?”

“Nope,” Bellamy says, pushing himself up off the stool. “I trust you have a plan.”

Sparks flew from the wires in Raven’s hands, and Bellamy could see them reflected in her eyes. She looked deadly - which, would worry him in any other person. But it’s Raven - it’s worrying for a totally different reason.

“Oh, I do.”

* * *

Three whole days pass. Raven avoids all of them. Clarke grills him, Wells mopes.

Bellamy just takes an even larger bite of his sandwich. It’s New York Deli day, and the meat may still be a mystery, but it’s good.

Raven’s got a plan - it’s only a matter of time before she does something.

And, yeah, it’s time.

Bellamy hears it before he sees it - the whirring of gears, the squealing of tires, the murmuring of the crowd as they stare at it. It, being a little robot wheeling towards them.

It’s got one arm sticking out - and it runs right into Wells’ back causing him to jump.

Bellamy looks around the cafeteria for Raven. He spots her on the upper level, leaning over the railing, remote control in her hands.

“What the-?”

“Will you go to prom with me?” The robot beeps out in a voice that reminds Bellamy vaguely of J. K. Simmons.

Clarke’s head snaps from the little robot to Bellamy, a huge grin on her face. He really didn’t do anything - but if she’s going to give him partial credit, sure, he’ll take it.

There’s two buttons on the robot - one with green tape and YES written on it and the other one with red tape a skull drawn on it. Wells laughs, and pushes the green one.

The robot’s little fists opens up to reveal a small piece of paper. He can’t see Wells’ reaction to it, but he can see Clarke’s, who’s reading over his shoulder: and she blushes furiously.

Bellamy looks back up at Raven - her smile’s so bright he can see it from the bottom floor. He gives Raven a thumbs up; she flips him off.

* * *

Miller hasn’t been able to stop smiling for days. Even when Bellamy put him in a headlock and demanded to know, and even all the teasing that went after. Nothing fazed him.

Monty waves at him, beckoning him to come over to where he’s sitting at the piano.

“I got that tea for you.” Monty says, holding out a thermos.

Miller sits down on the bench next to him. On stage, Bellamy and Lexa are arguing, Clarke trying to separate them. Harper’s yelling at some of the dancers; Jasper’s covered in paint. Pike’s shouts about war and survival waft over all of them, and he’s pretty sure he saw Wells and Raven making out under the balcony set.

It’s a pretty normal day of rehearsal.

Steam rises from the thermos; Monty’s watching him intently, so gingerly Miller takes a sip.

He gags, oh god _what the fuck_. Miller swallows. “That was - good?”

Monty bursts out laughing - and it’s so bright that it makes him forget about the awful aftertaste in his mouth.

“I can tell by your repulsed facial expression that you love it.”

“This is your favorite? What even...?”

“Gunfire,” Monty says a matter-o-factly. “Black tea, and usually rum, but I had some of Jasper and I’s last batch of moonshine left over.”

“Wait - fuck, _seriously?”_ Miller asks, shocked, looking back to the thermos in amazement. _Monty makes moonshine_ is a detail he stores for later.

“Yeah,” Monty cracks his his knuckles, and puts his sheet music on the stand, “I figured you’d need it today. No one should have to witness this sober.”

Miller glances at the title of the piece Monty’s about to play and - oh fuck, he gets it. Miller braces himself, and then takes a chug. There’s a burning sensation in his through that make his eyes go wide.

It’s not so bad once he gets used to it. It makes it that much easier to deal with the scene, which thankfully, he’s not in. It’s Bellamy and Clarke singing a love song - but they are also fighting zombies or something, and Pike’s being way intense with his directing that usual.

But Bellamy and Clarke are _good_. They make it work - and they even look like they’re having fun. Bellamy especially, who's just going with it. His voice is lowly and booming, he’s dancing looser than ever before, doing more improv. He’s smiling the whole time, looking utterly in love with Clarke like always.

Miller doesn’t know if it’s because he’s tipsy, but he thinks Bellamy looks more comfortable on stage than he ever did on the court.

And that thought sobers him up pretty quickly. Because for the first time, doubt creeps up inside Miller. He hadn’t actually considered the possibility that his best friend might leave him until now.

* * *

Clarke’s trying to focus on the tennis teams spread for the yearbook, but it’s practically impossible.

“...I told you, I’d date you on my terms, Prez.” She looks up to see Raven and Wells walking up. She gives them a smile, but Raven sees right through it. “What is it?”

Clarke sighs, and pulls out the letter from Harvard and hands it to Raven.

“Congratulations,” Raven reads, “we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for Harvard’s Freshman Honors Program…”

Wells whoops and wraps her up in a big hug. When she doesn’t cheer as well, Wells pulls back. “Why aren’t you excited? This is great.”

“I’d miss the show!” Clarke covers her face with her hands, “And not to mention the rest of the school year.”

Wells strong arm slips around her shoulders. “It is a great opportunity, but even if you don’t take it, you’re still going to Harvard.” Wells rubs circles into her back, and it relaxes some of the tension in her shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world?”

Clarke sighs and throws her head back against his shoulder. “Then why does it feel that way?”

“Clarke?” Clarke, Wells, and Raven all turn at the new voice. She’s surprised to find Ontari, holding a large box. “I have Lexa’s yearbook photos for you.”

Clarke blinks at her, but she takes the box anyway. “Of course you do - thanks.”

As soon as she’s gone, Raven snorts. “Lexa having a personal assistant is just - weird, even for her.”

“If there’s one thing Lexa loves, it’s bossing people around,” Clarke says, standing up. She can tell that Raven and Wells want to continue their conversation about the program but Clarke just can’t. She walks off with the box, full intention to just throw herself into her work.

* * *

“You’re late!” Raven says as she opens the gate to the junkyard.

“You said come over anytime!” Miller shouts back from the shotgun seat of Bellamy’s truck.

Raven works at the junkyard, but she basically runs it, since the owner is barely around. Bellamy still not letting her fix up his truck - Miller knows that Bellamy thinks of his truck as his baby - but that doesn’t mean that he’s not going to use Raven for spare parts.

When they park, Raven comes up to them and hands them each a beer. “Wick never notices,” she says, “now - what the fuck is wrong with that piece of junk this time?”

They get working - bickering, flicking greasy rags at each other, fighting over tools. It’s an easy rhythm to fall into, one they've been in many times before.

After they get the engine to stop leaking, they take a break. They’re all sitting in the back of Bellamy’s truck when he says:

“Do you ever feel like your future is laid out in front of you?”

Miller glances over at Bellamy, he’s starting up at the night sky, twirling his bottle between his fingers. He’s got that Deep in Thought face on.

“Well yeah - it’s called the future.” Raven says, taking a swing of her fifth beer. Miller’s probably going to have to drive her home tonight. “Everything’s laid out. It’s how things happen.”

Miller vaguely gets what she’s trying to say, but it does take him a while.

Bellamy sighs heavily. “I mean - I just want my future to be _my_ future. Not something someone else picked out for me.”

Miller looks down at his bottle. It’s strange - to see Bellamy like this. Well, Miller knows he’s always been a boy with a big heart too big for his chest, with the world on his shoulders, but.

Miller hadn’t wanted to join the youth basketball team at first. His father was trying to keep him busy, to distract him from his mother’s passing, and Miller was having none of that shit. And then he met Bellamy Blake when they were in the same fifth grade class. Specifically, in the same detention group. Two lost boys with dead mothers. They became fast friends, and only upon learning that Bellamy was joining the youth league did Miller finally relent and sign up too.

So it is weird, to see Bellamy, the person that got him into basketball in the first place, who got him into this whole idea of going to college together and playing together, want to abandon it all.

“So, you’re really thinking about Juilliard, huh?” Miller doesn’t think he sounds too bitter, but the look Bellamy gives him is slightly guarded.

“Not really, actually,” he says, which is, honestly, surprising. “I love theater - but I don’t want a _career_ out of it. And I still want to play basketball it’s just -” Bellamy shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of just staying here. Like I don’t have options elsewhere.”

Silence stretches between them, and the Bellamy speaks again, his voice lower, whisper: “Octavia is strong, she’ll be fine without me hovering over her the whole time. I don’t know… I could go somewhere, closer to Clarke…”

Miller sees Raven tense uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, listen,” Raven says, with more clarity in her voice than before, “I’m - we’re all rooting for you and Clarke. You too are perfect for each other, it’s disgusting. But I thought… I thought Finn was forever too, you know?”

Miller’s eyes widen in surprised - Finn Collins is someone they do not talk about, whether Raven is around or not. They don’t bring up her childhood best friend, her first for everything; they don’t bring up the boy that cheated on her, and died in a car crash before they got the chance to reconcile. If she’s bringing him up now, he knows it’s serious.

“But it’s high school. High school relationships don’t have the best track record of lasting, even when we want them to be.” Raven continues. And Miller feels that. He thought Bryan had been forever, too. “Things change. People change when they get out in the real world. Fuck - I don’t even expect Wells and I to last. I’m going to MIT, he’s going to Stanford on the other side of the country. We have an expiration date. Most high school relationships _do_. That’s just the way it is. If you're down here at U of R, or if you’re up there close to her. You’ve got practically the same odds.”

Miller’s got a strange feeling in his chest that Raven knows something he doesn’t. It’s a tense feeling in the air, one that makes Bellamy’s knuckles go white around the neck of his bottle.

“Well, fuck all that - the future and statistics and all that.” Bellamy pushes himself out of the bed. And just like that all fun and games are over. “I’m writing my own damn story.”

Raven sighs, standing up and reaching a hand out to Miller to help him up. “Believe me, if anyone deserves to prove all that wrong, it’s you and Clarke.”

* * *

Raven’s words echo in Bellamy’s head the entire drive home.

_High school relationships don’t have the best track record of lasting, even when we want them to be._

_That’s just the way it is. If you're down here at U of R, or if you’re up there close to her. You’ve got practically the same odds._

It had just been a thought in his head - what if he went up north with Clarke? As of now, his plan was still U of R, but it didn’t have to be…

When he goes into the living room, he finds Octavia and Clarke curled up on the sofa, with a big bowl of popcorn and watching _10 Things I Hate About You_.

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the arm rest next to Clarke, draping his arm on the sofa behind her, “what are you doing here?”

It’s Octavia though who responds though. “I helped her and Raven go prom dress shopping after school.” Bellamy shares a small amused smile with Clarke at his sister’s enthusiasm. “Raven found a killer dress that’s going to make Wells’ nose _bleed_. Clarke tried on a bunch that would do that to yours too, big bro, but she didn’t get any of them!”

He raises an eyebrow at Clarke. She shrugs. “I wasn’t feeling any of them.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “And then Raven left  to go hang out with you and Clarke took me to get ice cream and…”

Octavia cheerly blabbers on, but Bellamy’s focused on Clarke. She’s got this kind of faraway look in her eyes, staring at the paused television screen with intent. Bellamy recognizes the scene, since it’s one of his sister’s favorite movies and she’s made him watch it a billion times: it’s the prom scene, right when Kat finds out about the bet.

Bellamy runs his fingers through Clarke’s hair, and she jerks to look up at him. Her expression instantly softens, a small, tired smile appearing on her face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against her forehead, a _thank you_.

“Hey!” Octavia wails, “don’t be gross in front of me!”

Bellamy smirks at his sister, and then he leans down to press a heated kiss to Clarke’s lips - which gets a cute little surprised yelp out of her - and pressing her back into the sofa and into Octavia.

“Gross - Bell!” Octavia jumps off the sofa, the popcorn clattering to the floor. He’s practically on top of Clarke now, his thigh pressed between her legs, he can tell she’s trying her best not to get to into it because of their audience. “I’m telling Marcus!”

And, right on cue, Marcus’ voice from the second floor. “What’s going on down there?”

“Nothing!” Bellamy calls back, suppressing laughter. Bellamy sits down and pulls up a breathless Clarke so that she is too.

He throws the blanket down over the split popcorn just as Marcus reaches the bottom of the stairs.

* * *

Miller has never really been on a first date before. It’s driving him crazy, waiting with his dog Betsy outside of Monty’s house. As soon as Monty saw the pictures, he wanted to meet Miller’s dog. And, fuck, Miller couldn’t say no.

Also, it was probably for the best that their first date wasn’t prom. That way that dance was slightly less nerve inducing.

Monty comes bounding out of his house in. simple grey skinny jeans and a black zip up hoodie, two thermoses in his hands. His hair is still messy from sleep, and _fuck_ he’s cute. How many times

It’s an early Monday morning, chilly, just a simple walk before school. Monty hands him a thermos of warm tea - _non alcoholic this time, I swear_ \- and gets right down to pet Betsy, who takes a liking to him immediately.

_Me too, girl._

They are almost back at Monty’s house when Monty asks: “What’s eating you? You got this serious, deep in thought face on.”

Miller sighs, “It’s nothing, I…” He could brush him off, but God he wants to talk about it. “It’s Bellamy. We were going to go to college together, to play together, and now… I mean, I want him to do what he wants, I’m going to support him no matter what, it’s just...:”

“You’re afraid of losing your best friend?”

Miller lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, yeah that’s it.” They stop walking so Betsy can pee. “We were going to do this together, and if he isn’t there, it doesn’t feel like a victory? Like, it’ll feel… _off._ ”

“Jasper and I have been best friends since birth.” Monty begins. “When he got on the basketball team this fall - he got this like, huge ego boost. Suddenly, he was too cool to be seen with the math and music geek combo. I thought I lost him then, but when you’re friendship’s real? Nothing can break it - egos or distance. You won’t lose that.”

Monty takes Miller’s free hand in his, and Miller’s heart skips a beat.

He thinks about Raven’s words for a moment, about how relationships don’t last after high school. Miller is definitely going to U of R, which is two hours away. But Monty’s not going anywhere, he’s still got another year at Ark High. He wonders what they’ll do when he graduates, if they’ll last. He also wonders when he started thinking about him and Monty as a _relationship_.

But he also thinks of Monty’s words, and yeah. Bellamy and him - they were like brothers. They’ll be fine, he hopes.

Betsy takes a dump, and Miller groans. He hates this part - but today it’s not because of the smell but because he has to stop holding Monty’s hand to pick it up.

* * *

Homeroom had given Bellamy a headache - Pike can just drone on and on and _on_.

And Lexa coming up to him while he’s at his locker is the worst thing that could happen next.

“I realize I haven’t offered my congratulations.” Lexa says, voice icy but cool. Like she’s trying to be casual.

“For getting the lead role or the winning the championship?” Bellamy doesn’t look at her, just continues to exchange his books from his locker. “Because both of those things happened a long time ago.”

“Not for those, for Clarke.” Bellamy freezes - anytime she mentions Clarke, it puts him on edge and rightly so. “The Harvard Freshman Honors Program is a big deal, very prestigious. You must be so proud.”

_What?_

Bellamy looks at her blankly, he doesn’t even flinch away when she shoves a piece of paper in his hand. “It’s a shame she’ll have to miss the show. It does start next week, after all.”

Bellamy looks down at the paper: it’s a website print out, for the program. It’s a highlight of the recipients, and there’s Clarke’s picture.

“I…”

“Oh, you didn’t know? I guess her not telling you means that she's on the fence about it.” Even Lexa’s faux-friendly voice cuts like steel. “But who better than Bellamy Blake to encourage her to accept the honor? Since the only thing possibly holding her back would be... you.”

She walks off. Bellamy’s jaw has dropped. He…

He looks at the picture of Clarke and him in his locker. He’s giving her a piggyback ride at the school carnival, cotton candy in her hand and both their smiles bright.

This… this must be what’s been bothering her lately. And she… she didn’t tell him about it.

_I guess her not telling you means that she's on the fence about it… Since the only thing possibly holding her back would be... you._

The bells rings, but Bellamy’s still frozen in place, his mind running circles around him trying to make sense of it all.

* * *

Clarke’s lying on her floor, sketching, when she gets a call from Bellamy. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he responds, “did someone order a pizza?”

“I didn’t order a pizza.” Clarke stands up, and opens the door to her balcony. Sure enough, he’s down in her backyard, pizza box in hand.

“Special delivery!”

“Shh,” she says into the phone so it’s even quieter. “My mom’s home.”

He sends the pizza up in her little pulley and climbs up her tree - she was worried the first time he did that, but he’s become a pro and sneaking up and down that thing.

“I also got us chocolate covered strawberries.” Bellamy says, wrapping his arms around her.

Clarke hums, basking in his warmth against the chilly night-time air. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“I know.”

They eat on her floor, giggling and laughing and making out a little. He has to roll under her bed to hide at one point when her mother comes in to say goodnight. He gets some pizza sauce on his cheek, and she licks it off.

“Do you want the last strawberry?” He asks, holding it up.

“Hmmm,” Clarke tilts her head to the side, “I think I’m stuffed.”

“Come on. It’s the end of the world, and this This might very well be the best - and last! - strawberry,” Bellamy says, in a perfect rendition of Pike’s voice. It sends her in a fit of giggles that requires her to cover her mouth so her mom doesn’t hear. “But you wouldn’t know, because you’re not gonna eat it.”  
  
He holds it out for her to bite, and as soon as she leans in, he pulls it back and plops it in his mouth. She punches him in the arm.

He only took a bite though, and he gives her the rest. That makes up for it. Slightly. “You were right - this is probably the best strawberry in the whole batch. Tastes like you.”

That makes Bellamy’s ears go a little red, and she gives him a smug smile.

But then, he clears his throat, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Your Honors Program at Harvard…”

Clarke’s eyes go wide, and she immediately snatches the paper from his hand, examining it. “How’d you hear out about this?”

“A lot of people heart about it,” Bellamy says. He doesn’t sound accusatory, or even angry - just sad. “But I wasn’t one of them. Why?”

Clarke bites her lip, her grip on the paper tightening. She can’t even look at him, and when she finally speaks, her voice is small: “Because I knew what you’d say.”

“Of course you should do it, it’s a great opportunity.” She’s been hearing that from everyone - but it feels heavier, coming from him. She sneaks a glance at him; he’s looking down, tracing a pattern in the carpet. “Is that what you were trying to tell me?”

She knows he’s referring to the other day, when they were in his truck: _I have some decisions to make, too._

“One of the things.” His head snaps up to look at her. Their eye lock and fuck - she crumples under those eyes of him, every time. “I've been thinking about trying to talk my mom into staying here another year. I'll just take some classes here and go to Harvard when I’m ready-”

“Clarke, Harvard’s _your_ dream.” Bellamy reaches out to take her hand, and she grips it like a lifeline. “Besides - if anyone’s ready for college it’s you.”

“I don’t feel ready though,” Clarke shakes her head. This is why she didn’t want to tell him - because he’d tell her to go. Clarke knows she should go, it makes sense and all, but. Bellamy was her last tie here, one she didn’t want to cut. The long distance relationship was supposed to start at the end of the summer, not now. So she didn’t tell him, so she had a reason to put off the decision, to stay here with him where everything was _right_ and _safe_. “Everything about my life has always been full speed ahead. I told you, I wish it would all just slow down…”

“We’re going to graduate,” Bellamy says, voice soft, and he rubs his free hand over his face, “I’m scared too.”

Clarke eases herself up onto the edge of her bed, pulling Bellamy with her so that he’s standing up between her legs. She leans forward and rests her head on his stomach, his hand strokes her hair gently.

“You don’t have to say anything else.” Clarke sniffles, he can feels tears pricking at her eyes, “I’m a lot better at saying goodbye than you. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Bellamy pulls back, and kneels down in front of her. He takes her wrists in his hands, stroking her pulse lightly. His expression is a mix of confusion and concern. “Why are you saying goodbye? We still have prom, we still have graduation.”

Clarke wishes that were true.

“Not goodbye - goodnight _,_ ” Clarke says, and the words taste bitter on her tongue. What a lie. “But not yet.”

She leans down and kisses him. Slow at first, a tear rolling down her cheek. She deeps it, pulling on his hands forward. He gets up, and crowds over her on the bed, pushing her into the mattress. Her hands trail up his back, mapping and cataloging every inch of him. She wants to remember this.

* * *

Clarke thought her luck had finally changed, but nope, she’s standing in another empty house.

She was going to Harvard early, and her mother was moving back to Boston, too. There wasn’t even a house for her to come back to here anymore.

She said her goodbyes to Wells and Raven - it was easier with Raven, she was going to MIT they would see each other all the time - but it was harder with Wells. And sadly, she doesn’t have to imagine how hard it will be when those two have to seperate, she’s living that now.

Bellamy telling her to go - it basically sealed the deal.

The last thing she had said to Bellamy was _I love you_ , when she and her mother left the Kane-Blake household after having a going away dinner the night before. He had wanted to sneak to her room later, but she told him she was sleeping in her mom’s bed because her’s had already been taken away. It had been a lie. She just couldn’t handle another encounter feeling like goodbye.

Rip the band-aid off fast. Get it over with, it'll sting a little less.

She’s strong, but she’s not sure if she can take another heartbreak.

Her mother calls her out to the car, and she goes. She takes one last look at her house. She lived there for just over a year. It had been a record.

They drive past the high school on their way out of the city, and she could have sworn she saw _him_ standing on the rooftop.

* * *

Miller’s running into rehearsal late, but he slows down when he sees everyone sitting in the auditorium and not full swing. Pike’s standing on the stage, looking through some papers in his hands. At the piano, Monty rests his head in his hands.

“Hey, what’s going on…” Miller sits down next to Bellamy, his voice trailing off when he takes in his friend.

Bellamy looks like a wreck. He’s sitting low in his seat, bags under his eyes, his gaze empty and staring at the floor.

“Attention, quiet down,” Pike commands, even though everyone was silent, “Since, Ms. Griffin is no longer available, Ms. Woods will be taking over her roll. And Ms. Azgeda will take over the Ms. Woods’...”

_What?_

Miller’s head snaps from Pike to face Bellamy, but Bellamy hasn’t so much moved.

A shadow falls over them both. Miller looks up to see Lexa glaring down at them.

“What’s with the face?” Bellamy says. There’s no teasing in his voice, it’s just empty. “This is what you wanted, smile a little.”

Lexa sighs dramatically, crossing her arms. “I was hoping that with Clarke gone, you’d drop out.”

In a split second, Miller sees the shift in Bellamy. There’s a hardness that wasn’t there before: sheer determination, and distaste, and spite. It’s reflected in his voice too, sharp as steel: “Not on your life.”

“Dude - what happened? Where’s Clarke?” Miller asks when Lexa has stormed off.

But Bellamy doesn’t respond; he doesn’t even look at him. He just pushes himself off his seat and makes his way over to the stage, his head hanging low.

Miller goes over to Monty: “Do you know-”

“Apparently Clarke got into some honors program at Stanford? She left today.” Monty interrupts him, “She’s just - she’s _gone_. She won’t be back for the show. Now I’ve got to rework the keys in all the songs, and-” Monty leans back and rests his head against Miller, and Miller immediately brings his hand up to stroke the back of Monty’s head. “It’s not the same without her.”

“Yeah,” Miller lets out a deep breath. On stage, Lexa and Bellamy are already in a screaming match, neither of them wanting to touch each other. Harper looks like her hairs are greying as she speaks. But Miller’s more focused on Bellamy: who looks more hollow and angry and defeated than Miller’s ever seen him. “Yeah, it won’t be.”

* * *

He shoots another hoop and - and he misses. And again, and again, and again. In frustration, he throws the ball forcefully against the fence.

“Hey, easy there.” Bellamy turns to see Marcus coming out of the house. “That fence isn’t as strong as it used to be.”

Bellamy huffs and picks up the ball. He shoots it again and - he misses again.

He’s just missing everything lately. Baskets. Lines. Lyrics. Choreography.

Clarke.

“She still coming down for prom?” Marcus asks. Bellamy nods. This time, it almost goes in, but bounces out of the hoop at the last second. “How’s the show going?”

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair. “A nightmare. Pike’s a psychopath, the usual. You really don’t want the details.”

Marcus’ body language is off. Stiff. Bellamy’s pretty good at reading him, after spending the first year with him studying him, testing him, just looking for the moment when things would go south. Right now, he seems to be asking every other question than the one he wants answered.

“Did you need something?”

Marcus pulls out an opened navy blue envelope from behind his back. _Juilliard._ “When were you going to tell me about this?”

Octavia must have taken it out of the trash. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Maybe there is.” Marcus slips the envelope away. “I heard you're talking to other schools. I mean, is this serious?”

“U of R isn't the only school that's talked to me. You know that.”  
   
“But it's the only school we talked about.” Marcus takes the ball from Bellamy’s hands, and shoots - he makes it in. “Nathan would be disappointed if you changed your mind.”

Marcus is holding out the ball for Bellamy to take, Bellamy eyes it carefully, but makes no move to take it. “No, he’d get over it.” Bellamy takes a step back. “Would you?”  
   
When it’s clear that Bellamy’s not taking the ball - the olive branch - Marcus tosses the ball off to the side. “We've been going to U of R games since you were a little kid. You always talked about wearing a Spider’s uniform.”

“But I'm not a _little kid_ anymore.”

“Son, listen-”

“I’m not your son!” Something snaps inside Bellamy - all his frustrations, all his stress - lashing out in that one blow. “You’re not my Dad. Maybe I don’t want to follow in your footsteps? Maybe I don’t want to fill whatever fucking void you’ve got going on.”

“Bellamy-”

“I need to make my own choices. I need to be my own person - not yours.”

Marcus calls after him, but Bellamy’s already run into his truck, pulling out faster than what’s safe and speeding down the street.

* * *

It’s raining when he gets to the school. The locks not to hard to break.

He doesn’t really know he picked here of all places. His first choice would have been Clarke, but all he’d find was an empty house. He doesn’t really want to talk to anyone else.

It’s hard to simmer in his anger at Marcus when he remembers the hurt look on his face from Bellamy’s harsh words. He knows they were bad, and uncalled for, and that he didn’t deserve that.

Bellamy appreciates him, he even looks up to him and loves him like he would a father but sometimes…

Sometimes it was just easier to be angry.

His life was already out of control before his mother died. He’d been Octavia’s sole caretaker, both there and in foster care. He’d been distrustful of Marcus at first, the retired cop who’d offered assistance. It seemed too good to be true.

But it was great, Octavia was in a good home, raised to be better than he was, and they were together. He got to breathe a little bit, enjoy freedoms he never knew. But one path being laid out for him soon turned into another and…

For once in his life, he’d like to make a decision for himself. To be selfish.

In the cafeteria, there’s a comically large post of himself. There’s also one for Miller, and Murphy, and Monroe, and even Jasper. Celebrate their second straight championship win. The posters were weird, but Bellamy got a little swell of pride at seeing it every day at lunch.

Now?

He rips it down.

Octavia would call him over dramatic. So would Clarke, probably.

 _Clarke_.

They were going to make the most of their time together, they were going to be eased apart. It wasn’t supposed to be abrupt. It wasn’t supposed to feel like he was losing her.

 _Remember dumbass, you told her to go_.

Lexa was right - he was holding her back. Clarke has so much in her, so much to give. She didn’t need to be stuck in this town with him.

All the voices in his head, they’ve got him on edge. Raven’s spiel on relationships, Miller’s questions. Lexa’s taunts, Clarke’s last words. Kane wanting one thing and Pike wanting another - and Bellamy’s not sure if he wants either of those options.

Everything's pushing him this way and that and Bellamy justs wants to _scream_ -

“Now _that’s_ a war cry.”

Bellamy’s head snaps up. He didn’t realize he was actually screaming, and - fuck how’d he get to the auditorium?

And why the fuck was Pike here?

“Sir?” Bellamy blinks at the man walking towards him, “What are you doing here?”

“I find that this is a good place to think,” Pike says, “a good place to sort out one’s thoughts.”

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Still considering Juilliard?” Pike asks.

Bellamy does know that he really doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now.

“Not really.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad. I’d keep it in mind, just in case you’re awarded the scholarship,” Pike says, “I was the one who submitted your application, so I have a vested interest.”

“What - _you?”_ Bellamy gapes at him. “Why? How?”

“A little forgery never hurt nobody,” Pike shrugs, “And I did it because you look like you were born to be on stage. One shouldn’t be limited in choice, it takes real courage to to trust one’s instincts and make a decision. And you don’t lack that courage.”

“I…” Bellamy’s mind is still reeling. He wasn’t born to be on a court though, or to be on stage. He was born to be with his sister though, and Bellamy thinks now, Clarke too. “I think I’m going to go.”

“Excellent idea,” Pike nods, “since you’re not supposed to be here.”

Bellamy gives him a weak smile before turning to go, as soon as he’s out of the doors, he bolts back to his truck.

* * *

Harvard is everything that Clarke thought it would be and more. She found the robotics trophy with her father’s name on it. She gets along with her roommate, Luna, wonderfully. She loves all her classes, the quad where’s she’s lounging now is just beautiful. Harvard just feels right.

She misses home - or, really, she misses her friends. She misses Bellamy.

She misses Bellamy so much that she feels like her hearts about to implode. It’s a constant ache in her chest. Whenever she sees his name light up on her phone she jumps to grab it - and every time the conversation ends, the pain intensifies.

Bellamy picks up on the third ring: “Hey, I just picked up my tux-”

“We need to talk,” Clarke says quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. She pushes on before he can get a word out. “I need to be an adult right now, Bell. I'm hoping you understand that.”

“Clarke?” His voice - once happy and excited, does a complete one-eighty. She can hear Bellamy shuffling, probably moving to a different room. “Clarke, what do you mean? Prom’s tomorrow - aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

Clarke covers the mic of her mouth so he won’t hear her hitch in breath as the tears come. She knew it would be like this. “It's taking me two weeks to get used to being away from you. From you and everyone else.” She says slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “And now I have to what, I come back, go to prom and leave again? And then it's graduation, and leave again?”

“That was our plan,” Bellamy pleads with her, “Clarke, please come-”

“I don’t think I manage that, Bell.” Clarke wipes furiously at a tear that’s creeping down her cheek.  “I think I’ve run out of goodbyes.”

“Why do you keep saying goodbye?”

Clarke gasps as the tears come out. She just, she just can’t do this anymore. “I love you.”

“Clarke, wait-”

But she’s already hung up.

It’s bright and sunny out, but she feels like there’s a dark cloud looming over her.

* * *

“Is everything okay?” Octavia asks from his doorway.

He’s holding the phone limply in his hand, slipping. He sinks further back onto his bed.

“She’s not coming back.” Bellamy says, dumbfounded. Still trying to wrap his head around it.

Octavia comes and sits next to him. “For prom?”

“She’s not coming back _at all_.”

How did everything being planned turned into everything falling apart.

“But why?”

Bellamy covers his face in his hands. “She doesn’t want to have to leave again, and shit I don’t want her to do that, either.”

Octavia flops down so that she’s lying next to him. She pokes him in the chest.

“Then isn’t it a good thing then?” Octavia muses, “That it’s happening now rather than later?”

His sister’s smart: that’s what it should feel like - but this is Clarke they are talking about, and she’s always been the exception.

“Besides, you can still have fun at prom with Miller and Raven and all of them.”

There are two trains steaming through his head right now, headed straight for each other. They’re going to collide; they’re going to crash and burn. There’s nowhere for either of them to go.

And then suddenly, there is.

Bellamy gets an idea, and makes a split second decision. He’s got a plan.

He won’t let this be the end. He can’t lose Clarke.

“Well,” he says, wrapping an arm around his sister. She always brings out the best in him, even inadvertently. “I don’t plan on missing my prom.”

* * *

 

Miller picked Monty up right when he said he would. His dad let him borrow the car and everything.

Monty was wearing black dress pants and shirt, but a white suit jacket and bow tie. His mask was black too, with just a bit of silvery glitter; it looked like the stars.

They haven’t even walked in the gym yet when Miller just blurts out: “You look really good, so I’m just gunna-”

And he presses his lips against Monty’s. At first he’s worried, but Monty was just surprised, and after a moment he’s kissing him back. He’s grabbing onto Miller’s lapels, just as eager as he is. Monty's just - _wow_. His imagination had nothing on this. Miller’s smiling so much - he can’t contain it - but it’s making kissing Monty difficult.

“It’s about time,” Monty breathes out, and Miller laughs, “I thought you were never going to do that.”

“I’m inept, I know.” Miller steals another kiss, deepening just enough to be teasing before pulling away. “Come on - I practiced my waltz for this. I intend to impress you with it.”

The gym’s decorated with tons of twinkling lights and little paper masks. The entire ceiling is covered in balloons.

He sees Jasper with Maya over on one side, trying and failing not to step on her toes. There’s Murphy and Emori, trying to be discreet as they smoke at the top of the bleachers. Monroe’s twirling Harper around. But he doesn’t see Bellamy or Clarke anywhere. Even with the masks, he’d be able to tell, and they are definitely not there.

“Have you seen Bellamy?” Miller asks Wells and Raven. He and Monty and them found them by one of the blackjack tables set up. Raven sitting on Wells’ lap, clearing everyone else out of their worthless chips.

Raven grins at them. “Nope, but don’t worry about it. Trust me on this.”

Monty tugs on his hands, beckoning him to the dance floor. Yeah. Miller doesn’t need to worry, he’s got better things to do.

* * *

Clarke could barely pay attention in the class she was in. She hadn’t got much sleep the night before. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bellamy, then or now. She knew though, that things would heal with time. They’d get better in the end. They had to be.

Once again the sunshine seemed out of place for her mood. Like it was mocking her.

She sat beneath her favorite spot by far in the quad. In the shade between the same tree that she had called Bellamy under...

“Finally.” Someone says - and that _voice_ \- “I’ve been-” Clarke’s head snaps when she realizes that the voice is coming from above her, “standing in this tree for _hours_.”

“I don't believe this.” She blurts out, dumbfoundedly.

It’s _Bellamy._ He’s here.

“I took a wrong turn on the way to prom.” He jumps out of the tree, and she scrambles up so that she’s standing up. He’s wearing a tuxedo, and his smile is like the sun despite the tired bags underneath his eyes. “So did you.”

Clarke shakes her head. Of course he wouldn’t make things easy. Not that they were, but just - _of course_ he’d do something like this. She should have known he'd do something like this. “Prom is tonight, back in Virginia. That’s hundreds of miles away.”  
   
“I just had to be with you.” Bellamy takes another step towards her. Everything about him is drawing her in, but she resists. For now. “Besides, my prom is wherever you are.”

Bellamy reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out two paper masks that look like they’re from party city, Clarke can’t help let out a little laugh. One’s a lion, and the other’s a frog.

“The theme was masquerade, so…”

Clarke can’t resist anymore - she’s practically jumping out of her skin - she grabs him by the lapels and pulls him down for a kiss.

How she ever thought she could lose this - lose _him_ \- she didn’t know. There was no losing Bellamy Blake. And she didn’t want to, anyway.

“I think I’m underdressed.” Clarke says as they break apart, her nose bumping his.

“Or, I’m overdressed,” Bellamy’s grin is wide and more beautiful than anything Clarke’s ever seen. “But you can fix that later.”

Clarke laughs as she goes in for a quick kiss. Bellamy puts the lion mask on her head, and slips the frog one onto his. He pulls out his phone to turn the music on before slipping it back into his pocket.

“Can I have this dance?” He holds one hand out to her dramatically. He looks utterly ridiculous in that frog mask and she’s utterly, ridiculously in love.

She takes his hand, and he immediately pulls her in and twirls her around. They’re in the middle of the quad - there are people stopping and staring at them but none of that matters. It’s just her and Bellamy, together, the way that it’s supposed to be.

A slower song comes on, and they slow down too. Her head pillowed on his chest as they sway back and forth lightly. She was right, it always comes down to that.

“I miss you,” Bellamy says into her hair, “We’re better together. Things are better with you there, the show doesn’t feel the same without you. None of us are ready to say goodbye.” Clarke tightens her hold on him, breathing him in. “And Clarke? You don’t have to.”

Clarke pulls back to look up at him. His face is just soft, not sad. He’s got the smallest of smiles for her, but it feels like the biggest. “It’s only a goodbye if you let it.”

Clarke stops swaying. She considers him for a moment, taking in his tired eyes and his freckles, the dory frog mask. She still doesn’t know how she ended up so lucky to have someone like him, someone who could bring her out of the dark, who could always make things better.

She steps up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. It’s slow, and sweet, and saying a million things she’ll tell him later.

“Well,” she says, pulling back just a bit, “we better hit the road then.”

* * *

It’s twenty minutes till curtain when Jasper comes up to him, all smug and proud: “Bellamy just texted me. Probably just checking in.”

Miller rolls his eyes. Like contact with Bellamy makes anyone cool; if anything, it just makes them more of a nerd. Miller looks down at Jasper’s phone, and Bellamy’s text reads: _driving all night. I’ll try to be there for the second act. break a leg._

Miller bursts out laughing. Suddenly, everything makes sense, and the show got a whole lot more interesting.

Jasper’s looking at him funny, so Miller calms himself down a bit. “You’re his understudy right? Looks like you’re on.”

All the color drains from Jasper’s face when he registers Miller’s words. “I, uh-”

“PLACES!” Pike’s booming voice yells.

Miller runs off before Jasper can say anything else. He’s in the first number. He’s got to make it count.

It feels weird to be back in his basketball uniform but be on stage. Most of the team is behind him, a few regular dances as well. He’s getting the same feeling he got just before the championship game.

 _You got this_.

The overture starts to play, Monty’s voice coming out of the monitors: _It’s our last chance to share the stage, before we go our separate ways…_

Miller’s heart is beating out of his chest. The music kicks up, the curtain rises. The lights are bright and blinding, but he still manages to see Monty’s face in the orchestra pit.

He gives him a wink just before:

“WHAT TEAM?”

_“ASTROS!”_

“WHAT TEAM?

_“ASTROS!”_

* * *

Miller collapses next to Monty on the piano bench just as Harper’s number ends. Monty’s clearly surprised, but Miller just holds a finger to his lips.

“Prepare for the funniest thing in the word.” Miller says.

Monty raises his eyebrows, but turns back. It’s the big number - the big love/fight scene. The big scene that was supposed to be for Bellamy and Clarke.

But now, it was for Lexa and Jasper.

He can barely stop himself from laughing as Lexa begins the number. How can he not when he knows what’s coming? And Jasper doesn’t disappoint. First, he misses his cue, so Lexa’s left on stage awkwardly re-singing the last line over and over - Monty gives him a look, but Miller shakes his head and mouths: _just wait for it._

Jasper doesn’t fail to disappoint - he comes out of the balcony doors in not just the wrong costume, but in several wrong costumes. His voice off key, and Lexa’s practically running away from him on the stage.

Monty turns to him, trying to control laughter. Miller just nods rapidly. Yep, this is exactly what he was talking about.

He can hear Pike shouting from backstage - and suddenly the curtain drops.

Monty’s on top of it though, playing a different song to pass the time for the audience. And then, the curtains open again, and Monty fades the music out.

And there’s Bellamy and Clarke on stage, and Miller jumps up and _whoops_.

And so does the audience - because Bellamy and Clarke are _killing_ it. Both of them look more alive than they have in weeks.

The rest of the cast comes up on stage with them, which isn’t planned. They’re just as overwhelmed as Miller is at Bellamy and Clarke’s return.

They get a standing ovation. The curtain falls, and Miller grabs Monty’s face and gives him a heated kiss before heading backstage again.

* * *

Clarke feels as if there’s a sun shining in her chest. They just gave the best performance of their life. She’s got Bellamy’s arm around her, Raven’s hand in hers, their friends all around them.

And Miller running towards them, tackling both her and Bellamy in a huge hug.

“You guys! That was amazing!!” Miller shouts, squeezing them so tightly she can barely breathe. And then Miller pull back, glaring at the both of them. “Don’t ever pull that shit again, though.”

“No promises.” Bellamy laughs.

“Hey, look.” Raven says, squeezing her hand and pointing behind them to the stage.

Ontari and Lexa are battling it out in the prom number. Guess Ontari didn’t want to give the part back…

“Hold on, I got this,” Wells says, pulling the stage remote off the wall.

He waits until Ontari and Lexa stumble onto the platform, and then he pushes the button. They’re still fighting for attention as they sink below. That’s dedication.

“Hey!” They all turn their heads to the voice. It’s Harper, tapping her foot impatiently. “You’re all up next - go get in costume!”

It was good to be back.

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen - our seniors! Our survivors!” Pike calls from the podium for their mock graduation/reaching the safe haven scene.

They're all wearing bloody caps and gowns, and despite how ridiculous it all is, Bellamy feels like it’s fitting.

“First we have Ms. Harper Wilde, our Juilliard School Scholarship Recipient!”

Harper shrieks in delights, jumping into Monroe’s arms. She deserves it - the choreography was killer, and out of the three of them up for, she’s the best person all around.

“John Murphy!” Pike calls next, “You did it. You graduated.”

“Nathan Miller, University of Richmond,basketball and literature. Lexa Woods, University of Southern California, theater. Raven Reyes, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, robotics. Wells Jaha, Yale University for-”

“ _WHAT_?” Raven’s voice cuts off Pike’s in surprise. Wells was supposed to be going to California, thousands of miles away, not Conneticut where it was only hundreds.

Wells gives her a sheepish, grin. “Surprise?”

Raven punches him, then pulls him by the sash for a kiss that’s so not PG and should definitely not be on stage.

“And Bellamy Blake,” Pike says, once Rave and Wells break apart and the crowd has calmed down. “I believe you have a decision to make.”

Bellamy lets out a deep breath, and steps forward. It’s now or never.

“I have no idea idea what I want to do.” Bellamy begins. “I know it involves basketball, and I know it involves theater. Those I can do anywhere.” He turns around to face Clarke, because she’s the one that needs to hear this, not the audience. “But the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, allows me to do both, and be only eighty-nine point seven miles away from you.”

Her beautiful eyes are filled with happy tears. Bellamy takes her hand, and pulls her forward as he turns back to the crowd.

“Clarke Griffin, Harvard University, Pre-Med.”

When the curtain falls for the last time, it doesn’t feel like the end. It feels like the beginning.

“You’re- _you’re_ -” Clarke stutters, beaming up at him.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily.” Bellamy says, kissing her forehead. “It’s less than a two hour drive if the traffics light.”

“Let’s hope your truck doesn’t break, then.”

“Hey - it got us there and back _here_ once already.”

Raven pulls Clarke away eventually demanding to know if Clarke knew about Wells - _“I swear I didn’t? Did you know about Bellamy?” -_ and disappearing into the crowd.

“One question: does Amherst play?” Bellamy turns around to see Miller standing there, his hands low in his pockets.

“Yeah, they play,” Bellamy says, cocking his head to the side. “Scheduled to squash some Spiders this November.”

Miller grins at that. “We’ll see about that, Blake.”

* * *

Outside in the parking lot, Octavia tackles him in a big hug quickly, before abandoning him in favor of Clarke. She’s clearly her favorite.

Or maybe she just knows that Bellamy and Marcus need to have a conversation.

“This is what you want?” Marcus asks, but there’s no malice behind it. Bellamy nods. “That’s all that matters. I’m proud of you, son- I mean, Bellamy.”

Bellamy feels a lump form in his throat. He reaches out and grabs Marcus by the shoulder, and embraces him.

Bellamy doesn’t remember the last time he did this, that wasn’t just a quick thing and with everyone during a game.

“Thanks, Dad.” Bellamy says, his voice cracking a little. Marcus means so, so much to him, and it’s time he let him know that.

Marcus’ arms come around, holding him tight. Bellamy thinks he can here the older man sniffle. He knows he is.

* * *

“Ark High is a place where we defined ourselves as we chose. Where we came into our own, where we grew, and learned, and prospered.” Wells is at the podium, the image of presidential perfection.The gown is itchy, but it’s not bloodstained. Clarke’s on his left, Miller on his right.

“High school isn’t the best years of our lives,” Wells goes on, and that gets a chuckle from some in the crowd. “High school only the beginning. It’s the place where we forge lasting relationships, with friends that we’ll keep for the rest of our lives, and it’s the place where one person…”

Bellamy peaks at Clarke out of the corner of his eyes. She’s focused intently on Wells, tears already forming in her eyes.

“...if it's the right person...changes us all.”

Raven wolf whistles, and Bellamy can see Wells roll his eyes from here. Raven will never stop, and Wells secretly loves it.

“Ark High, it’s a place that we’ll carry with us, forever.” Wells raises his tassel, and moves it to the other side of his hat, and everyone else follows suit. “We’re all in this together. Once an Astro, always an Astro.”

And then everyone is jumping up in their seats, throwing their hats into the air - screaming, cheering, shouting, crying.

He’s got his arms full of Clarke - and she tastes like pure joy, like a miracle. Miller’s on his back, and then Monty’s there - and Wells, and Raven, and Murphy, Monroe, Harper.

It’s a giant group hug, Bellamy and Clarke right in the center.

Whoever said that graduation was an expiration date? Whoever said they had to let it all go?

It wasn't an end, it wasn't even a beginning. It was a continuation. What happened here would follow them into the future. And for once, Bellamy wasn’t scared of the future.

He welcomed it with open arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I made an edit for this, which you can find [here](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com/tagged/hsm3au)
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


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